Chapter 7 #2
Cooper toweled off his wet hair and face. Even under his jacket, his clothes looked soaked. Poppy beckoned for them. “Let me put those in the dryer, before you catch a cold.”
Cooper raised an eyebrow in amusement. “Trying to get me naked? At least buy me dinner first.”
Poppy flushed. “I’ll find you a bathrobe, or something to wear.” She scurried out before he could see her cheeks burning red. She suddenly realized that for all her neighborly good intentions, she’d just invited the wolf through her door. The handsome, sexy wolf.
And told him to take all his clothes off, too.
Poppy ignored the slow flip in her stomach, and busied herself tracking down dry clothes for him to wear.
Even her slouchiest clothes would be way too small for him, but buried in the closet in one of the guest rooms, she hit the jackpot: an old Indiana State T-shirt and some men’s sweatpants, sized large.
“Success,” she said, entering the kitchen with her bounty.
She was braced for some kind of tension or awkwardness, but instead, Cooper was by the stove, with a spoon already dipping into the pan of soup.
He paused, looking so much like a guilty schoolboy, she couldn’t help but laugh.
“Go change,” she said, “I’ll fix us a couple of bowls. ”
“Angel.” Cooper flashed her a smile on his way out, so bright Poppy was thrown off balance.
Wow.
It was a good thing he was so grumpy, she thought.
Otherwise that smile could do some serious damage.
As it was, she had time to pull herself together—setting out two bowls, and a board with some hard cheese and the crusty loaf she’d bought in town the day before.
When Cooper rejoined her, dressed in the sports gear, she didn’t even notice the way the T-shirt pulled over his muscular torso, or how the loose sweatpants inexplicably hugged his ass.
Didn’t notice for long, at least.
“That smells amazing,” Cooper said, eyeing the soup hungrily. His hair was damp and rumpled, dark strands in his eyes, and Poppy felt an inexplicable urge to push it back.
Down, girl.
“You have good timing, it’s just ready.” She ladled it between their bowls, then took a seat at the old kitchen table. He cleared a stack of magazines off the other chair and joined her.
“Thanks. For the shelter, and the soup.” Cooper said. He shot Poppy a rueful smile. “I don’t know what I was thinking, trying to work through this. Everyone said the rain was coming.”
“But you thought you knew better?” she said, half-teasing.
“Something like that.”
They started to eat. Cooper devoured his first bowl, barely coming up for air, then went to fix another.
This one, he ate slower, sopping up the juices with bread.
“Damn, nothing beats Aunt June’s soup,” he said, sounding satisfied.
“I talked her into bringing it to a town potluck last year, I swear I stood guard by the table all night, making sure everyone only took one helping.”
Poppy smiled. “Once, my college boyfriend dumped me in the middle of finals, and she shipped me a jar of it, wrapped up in tissue paper so the glass wouldn’t break.”
He laughed. “I keep asking for the recipe, but she says it’s family only.”
“Really?” Poppy arched an eyebrow. “Then you better be extra-nice to me.”
“I can do that.”
Cooper caught her eye with a roguish smile, and just like that, Poppy forgot what they were even talking about. Her stomach turned a slow flip, and she felt her cheeks flush.
She knew how those lips felt, soft against hers.
She looked away. “Are you done?” she said, her voice coming out high-pitched. She got up and reached for his empty bowl, but Cooper waved her hands away.
“I’ve got this.” He cleared their things, and ran hot water to do the dishes. “Coffee?” he offered.
“Thanks. The pot is—”
“Right here. You go put your feet up,” he ordered her lightly. “Consider it my thanks for dinner.”
“OK.” Poppy didn’t know quite what to do with herself, so she went to the living room and curled up on the couch.
The worst of the storm had passed, but rain was still drumming lightly on the porch roof, and it felt warm and cozy inside.
She pulled a blanket down and tried to relax, but it was impossible with the awareness humming through her body.
She could hear Cooper moving about in the kitchen, and wondered if he felt it too.
Or maybe he’d meant what he’d said the other night, and the kiss really didn’t mean a thing to him.
So why had he leaned in and claimed her lips like that?
And why had it felt so good?
Poppy was still puzzling when he emerged a few minutes later with two steaming mugs. “Milk and sugar OK?” he asked, handing her one.
“Great. Thank you.” Poppy wrapped her hands around the mug, as Cooper casually sat down on the other side of the couch. He stretched his legs out in front of him and yawned.
“I hope this doesn’t last all week,” he said, looking out the window. “We need to get the roof on, or we’ll be way behind schedule.”
“Your client cracking the whip?” she asked.
“Something like that.” Cooper looked over. “It’s my place,” he told her. “For now, anyway. I figure I’ll fix it up, then find some rich summer people to take it off my hands.”
Cooper seemed to be working too hard for it to just be a flip project, but Poppy didn’t push. “Sounds like a plan,” she said instead. “You shouldn’t have any problem finding a buyer. I’ve been here a week, and already I never want to leave.”
Cooper grinned. “Even with all the noise?”
She tossed a cushion at him. “Don’t. The next time my agent calls demanding pages, I’ll sic her on you.”
“How’s the writing going, anyway?” he asked, taking a sip of his coffee.
She let out a pitiful groan. “It’s not.”
“What do you mean?
“I’m blocked,” she admitted sadly. “Completely and utterly blocked.”
Cooper seemed amused. “Hazard of the trade, right?”
She shook her head. “Not to me. Not like this. It’s the most important book of my career, the one everyone’s waiting for, but all I can do is sit at my computer screen and panic.
” Poppy could feel it all over again, the crushing weight of expectations pressing down on her chest. “And then I beat myself up for panicking, and feel guilty for letting everyone down, and then the whole feedback loop starts again.”
“Whoa there.” Cooper looked surprised. “Is this what you’ve been doing all week, just sitting here in your loop?”
She nodded. “Sometimes I go to the café in town and sit and panic there, too. I’m a failure,” she said.
“And an imposter, too. Maybe you were right before,” she added, looking over at him in defeat.
She’d been fighting her doubts and insecurities all along, but maybe it was time to admit the truth.
“What do I know about happily-ever-after?” she said.
“I mean, just look at me. I’ve written a dozen romance novels, but I don’t have any clue what I’m doing when it comes to my own love life. ”
Poppy cringed to hear the words out loud. “God, I’m such a cliché—the romance author who’s never been in love.”
Cooper quirked an eyebrow, and Poppy braced herself for the questions about what happened with Owen, but instead, he suddenly got to his feet. “You’ve been sitting in this house way too long,” he announced. “We need to break this cycle. Come on.”
“What? Where?” Poppy blinked. “It’s storming out there.”
“Not anymore.” Cooper paused, listening, and Poppy realized he was right. The steady drum had stopped, but it was still dark out, and late now, too.
“I don’t know . . .” she said reluctantly. “I figured I would just curl up with a book. Is anything even open on a Sunday night?”
Cooper grinned. “Ye of little faith. Come on, grab your coat and let’s get out of here. It’ll be fun, I promise.”
Poppy hesitated. It wasn’t the cold and dark she was worried about, it was the man standing in front of her: tall and broad-shouldered, and looking way too tempting.
But Cooper flashed her that irresistible smile, and she knew, she didn’t stand a chance.
Between Cooper and another night in staring at a blank screen, there was no contest.
“Fine,” she agreed, and got to her feet. “But don’t think this will win you Aunt June’s secret recipe.”
Cooper laughed. “You’ll change your tune by the time I’m through with you.” He winked, and Poppy felt her stomach turn that slow, delicious arabesque.
The problem was, she would.